The soft fluttering of the wings of my past The silent graceful fall of the moth Nights version of the Butterfly God directs you not to touch, Not to rub the shimmer from His creations wing That pixie dust gives him life He says, Freedom, power, control Its his source and one identity.. Without it he is lost Standing in awe at the Butterfly that flits at night, Youre drawn.. like he is to a flame… Closer you step, quietly cooing Saying sweet things without him knowing Your prescense is felt but no threat is sent On and around he flys.. in the moonlit sky Lower from the heaven and closer to you He skirts.. flirts… attention is due You have found your chance, your moment to defy God You touch and snatch his little bod, Falling limp and calm in the palm of your hand He ceases to prance never to dance again Your fingers shine w metallic gleam You have captured this forbid being.. Will you care for it now? for he cant stand alone, Responsibilty for your actions, tho I do not condone, Are what you take, God declares at dawn.. For this butterfly’s past has come and gone…

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